From Heaven Above
by NerdAngel
Summary: Mary's POV while she watches how her sons spend Christmas through the years.
1. Silent Night

**A/n: Alright, here is the first chapter of my Christmas story. As I mentioned, I will be posting every Friday up to Christmas. That being said, I will be postponing posting my other stories until I have completed this one.**

 **Thank you to anyone who reads, reviews, follows, or favorites this story as well as any of my other ones. As always, a special thank you to LilyBolt and miXiZ for all of your support and friendship.**

 **This takes place Dec 25, 1983 after Mary was killed. Sam is seven months old and Dean is four. No spoilers really, unless you haven't seen the pilot.**

 **There are a lot of stories out there I'm sure about when ans what Dean's first supernatural encounter was, this is just one idea.**

 **I do not own Supernatural or its characters.**

Silent Night

Sammy's first Christmas is NOTHING like I had planned. It was suppose to start the same way last Christmas morning had. Dean would run into our room and climb onto our bed and chant "It's Christmas it's Christmas, wake up Mommy wake up Daddy, it's Christmas!" All the while bouncing around with the biggest smile that was able to fit his little face. I would laugh at my little boy's excitement, kiss John on the cheek, and leave him to collect Dean while I went to fetch Sammy. His first Christmas!

I was going to come down the stairs and find Dean eagerly shaking the gifts that would be stacked under the biggest tree our house would allow, John always insisted on it. My parents' ornaments as well as the ones John and I bought would be hanging all along the tree. A bunch of them clustered too close together towards the bottom where Dean would have helped us decorate. John would have turned on Christmas music for my sake and the lights on the tree, making it glow with multiple colors for the boys. He would return from the kitchen with a cup of coffee for me as well as a hot chocolate for Dean, then go back and get his own. Once the adults were caffeinated and the mood was set, the present opening would commence. We always started with the stockings, which John's and my own would be almost completely empty while Dean and little Sammy' s would be practically over flowing. I know at seven months he wouldn't have much interest, but I would still set him on my knee and hold him in my arms while John held out the little red cloth stocking with Sammy's name embroidered at the top. I would make excited sounds as I pulled out a toy and hand it to him. Sammy was different then Dean already and he was only a few months old, so I'm not sure how he would react to it. Dean, of course, would begin tearing at his own stocking and excitedly shouting and thanking us for everything. His father would remind him it was from Santa, so thank him.

John and I would get each other small things, but the bulk of the money would go to our boys. We would've tried to get Dean everything he wanted. John had even started taking up extra hours at the Garage starting in September so that we would have enough money for the holidays. Most of little Sammy's gifts would be more for us parents, such as maybe a new changing table or high chair. He had already started teething a little before his sixth month, so we would have bought him teething rings, maybe a stuffed animal or two, and most definitely a new blanket. Dean would have wanted cars, he's always loved them so. All kinds from trucks and big rigs to little cars and VW Bugs. His favorite, of course, would be the muscle cars. Specifically Impalas. John had already started looking for a black 1967 Chevy Impala toy car so that Dean could have one just like daddy.

Presents would be over quickly since at Dean's age, kids tended to rip through them. The rest of the day John would spend bonding with our boys, more than likely playing cars while holding little Sammy who would probably watch with large interested eyes. His eye color was still a muddy grey, but I had a feeling they would end up closer to John's then mine. Meanwhile, I would start our family Christmas dinner. We would have ham, mashed potatoes, steamed and seasoned vegetables, yams, and I of course would make some dessert. Dean seemed to have taken a liking to my pies the most of anything I had baked, possibly of anything I had ever made period. I always enjoyed seeing his face light up whenever he saw one.

We would sit around the table with Sammy in a high chair between John and I, and we would enjoy the meal together. Sammy was still not eating many solids yet, so I would feed him some of the yams since they were soft and mushy enough for him. Then after dinner I would bath the boys, dress them in their pjs, tuck Dean into bed and sit with Sammy while John read a new book Dean had been given for Christmas. He would kiss us all goodnight, we would tuck in Sammy, then John and I would retire to our own room.

That was the Christmas I had envisioned. It was the holiday I had looked forward to celebrating most when it came to Sammy' s first. Halloween had scared the poor thing, Thanksgiving probably wouldn't have been a big deal for him yet, but I just knew Christmas would be the best. It was my favorite holiday. It was a time for joy and laughter and everything was all decorated so beautifully and moods were merry and music was light and sweet. I can't express the pain I feel not having been able to at least have had that day with them. But nothing could ever prepare me for the Christmas my boys had to partake in.

As I had expected, Dean had woken up just after the sky lit up, climbed onto John's bed, and began to chant about it being Christmas. His face was shining brighter than the sun as he jumped around the unoccupied side of the motel mattress. John rolled over with a groan and covered his face with his hands before slamming them down and bolting up.

"Dean, hey! Knock that shit off! It's early, go back to sleep!" That man was lucky I wasn't there, I would have slapped him. I swear John Winchester, if my boys grow up with a mouth like yours, you'll regret it. Dean immediately stopped hopping around the minute his father raised his voice and plopped down on his bottom. The look in my little boys eyes, if only I could have been there to scoop him up. I would have held him tight and kissed his sweet little face, Mommy always made it better.

"But Daddy, it's Christmas, don't you want to see what Santa brought?" He asked in a small voice.

"Santa didn't come," my husband snapped. I could feel my eyes grow wide.

"But-but I was a good boy," my son assured his father. As a Mom, you start to recognize certain emotions starting to work their way into a child. I heard the unmistakable sound of both shock and despair when he spoke.

"He didn't come because-" John Winchester, don't you dare! "There's no such thing as Santa." If my blood could boil, I would be hot to the touch and flames would be seeping out of my ears and nose. How dare he?! I knew he was grieving, I knew he felt lost and that he was brewing with anger, but how could he smash my little angel's innocence like that?! Dean wasn't even five yet! Children should have at least nine years of their life to believe in things such as Santa Clause and the Easter Bunny if not a year or so more. He was only a boy for God sakes! If my heart could break, it would have shattered. Dean's eyes began to water and his lower lip began to tremble. I could see his heart sinking into his stomach as he sat staring at John. Much to my dismay, he didn't apologize or even hold our son in his arms as a way of calming him. Instead he threw back the covers and stomped off to the restroom. The sound of the door slamming behind him startled Sammy awake and he began to cry. Dean wiped the tears from his face and crawled from the bed to accompany his little brother in the wooden motel crib. It wasn't much of one if you ask me. I watched as my baby climbed up and in and quickly collected his baby brother into his arms. He held him tight to his chest, perhaps a bit too tight in my opinion, and began to rock him.

"Shhh it's ok Sammy," he soothed. When the baby continued to cry, my oldest switched from talking to him, to singing. I could feel tears leaking from my own eyes as I recognized the song as the one I use to sing to Dean whenever he was upset. I didn't think it was possible to feel anything after I died, but I was wrong. I may not be able to feel the actual sensation of something such as tears or cold, but my emotions were still in tact and in that moment I felt damn near every one of them. I was proud of my little boy for being the best big brother anyone could ever hope for, he was so attentive to little Sammy's needs all the time and never with a fuss and he never had to be asked. I felt guilty that I wasn't there with them. The fact that my boys and husband were now homeless, wifeless, and motherless because of me brought on the worse pain imaginable. And Dean taking up the role of a parent at an age where he still needed one, that wasn't right. I felt grief that my family was broken and the man I loved had changed and not for the better. I was beyond furious with John, and yet my heart ached for him too. I knew he loved our boys with all his heart, but he had been blinded with grief and filled with rage. I suppose the perk of my view was also my curse, I could see everything. I could see Dean and Sammy in the motel room, my little boy was staring down at his little brother in admiration who had stopped crying and was staring up at him with what I found to be the closest thing to reflecting the look he was being given. More then just being able to see my sons, I could see John. I wish I hadn't, but I could. He was leaning against the counter, the cold water turned on high as he sat with his head in his hands sobbing. I wish I could go to him and comfort him, tell him everything would be alright. Tell him to just pack their bags and find a new home and start over. But I couldn't. Instead I was forced to watch. I wasn't sure if where I was was actually Heaven or if it was in fact Hell. To have to sit idly by and watch, was torture.

By the time John had collected himself again and re-entered the bedroom, Dean was passed out with his back up against one of the corners of the crib and Sammy fast asleep in his arms.

When he woke up, John told him to get dressed and that they were going to a surprise. Although he never apologized, I commend my husband for righting a least a little bit of his wrong. Dean gently moved Sammy off of him and climbed out of the crib to get dressed. Within second he was clothed and trying to tie his shoes. John noticed and bent down to help him. He picked up Sammy and took hold of Dean's hand as he led them from the room and loaded them into the car.

Ten minutes later John pulled the Impala up to a fast food joint that I personally didn't approve of, but it lit up my boys face the instant he recognized it. How could anyone deny that light? He practically flung the door open and tore off towards the building with John and his baby brother in tow. My husband ordered their meals and went to set up a spot to eat where he could see the play area. It wasn't much, but what did you expect when it was an inside structure in a small building? Dean scarfed down his burger and fries while John finished up his just as fast. He mushed up some fries for Sammy to try, but our baby just turned his head away and grunted. My husband tried to encourage our oldest son to go enjoy his time at the structure.

"Can Sammy come?" he asked. John explained how he was still too little to play with the big kids, most of them wouldn't be as careful as he was around him. So instead Dean pulled out the toy he had received from his meal and began to run it around the table in Sammy's direction. It was a rather peculiar looking character wearing a bright blue helmet while his feet were stuck to a matching skateboard. Our baby watched with wide eyes as little excited sounds escaped his lips. John tried a few times to get Dean to go and play with the other kids, but he simply insisted on staying and playing with his brother. They stayed for a couple of hours, just enjoying not being cooped up in the motel room. Finally John packed both our sons into the car, and was off. Sammy fell asleep almost as soon as he was placed back in the car seat and Dean stared out of the window.

It took me a while to figure out where he was going after I watched him pass up the motel they were staying at, but I caught on. I glowered down at him as pulled the car off the road and down a dirt path towards an old abandoned looking house. The Impala came to a stop a few feet from it. John killed the engine, turned to check on Sammy who was still fast asleep, and then to Dean.

"Alright buddy, stay here with Sammy ok?" He instructed.

"Where are you going?"

"I have to run an errand. Now you might hear some loud bangs, but it's going to be alright. Just stay in the car. You got that son?" Dean nodded. "That's my boy." John climbed out of the car and locked it before walking around to the trunk and opening it to reveal numerous weapons. Some were ones he could get into some serious trouble for should he ever get caught, others, weapons I myself had grown up with that would seem merely strange harmless objects to others. He pulled a large bag from the car and began to pour out salt in a circle around it before rolling it up again and stuffing it back into the trunk. I watched as he removed a shotgun, shells filled with what I assumed to be rock salt, and a large flashlight which tucked into his waistband. He slammed the trunk closed and Dean watched as my husband stalked off towards the house until it swallowed him from view. I don't know how long my boys sat in that car while John searched the house. Sammy eventually woke up and began to cry. Dean leaned over in his own car seat to comfort him. He tried everything he could, but Sammy just continued to scream. I could see Dean's face fall in defeat when nothing he did seemed to sooth his brother. Already the sky had darkened and the house in front of them seemed to disappear in the dark. I could sense my son's worry as the night grew and John still hadn't returned. Suddenly, there was a loud bang fired from John's shotgun and Dean quickly covered his ears. The sound startled the baby causing him to scream louder. Dean desperately fumbled to unhook his car seat then got to work on his brother's. I was impressed, a four year old figuring out what most adults couldn't. Sammy was unbuckled and once again in Dean's arms. It seemed to bring down my baby's crying considerably. Before my oldest could do anything else, John rushed out of what seemed like nowhere yelling for Dean to stay put in the car. He scurried to the trunk and removed the bag of salt. As he made his way back, he was knocked over by a rather ragged and terrifying ghost. I had hoped it would have gone missed by my boys due to the dark, but the look on Dean's face told me I had hoped wrong. The beam from John's flashlight had shone just right and Dean quickly ducked out of sight holding Sammy close and closing his eyes. John had managed to get back to his feet and tore of back into the house. A couple of minutes later he returned and I could see smoke issuing from inside. Dean quickly returned Sammy to his seat and buckled it up, doing the same with his own. John didn't say anything as he climbed into the car. He simply started it up and took off from the site and back towards the road. The entire ride to the motel and even when they were back in their room, Dean didn't say a word. His eyes were large, like a deer in the headlights, and his body trembled every couple of minutes. If John noticed, he didn't say anything. The rest of that night had been eerily silent for all my boys, including Sammy who hadn't cried since they got to the motel. John changed him, Fed him, and then placed him in the crib for the night. Dean had already quietly climbed into his own bed, pulling the covers over his head and squeezing his eyes shut.

As I watched this unfold in front of me, my grief deepened. My husband had taken to a life I had escaped and had already drug my boys into it. Dean had seen his first ghost and the poor thing was only four. My life was crumbling around me. I didn't want this for my boys, I didn't want this for my husband. But it didn't matter what I wanted or what I didn't want. I had been removed from their lives, I had no say. Dean didn't get a toy Impala like he had wanted for Christmas. He hadn't gotten anything but a stupid little piece of junk toy, a broken heart, and the scare of his life. Sammy didn't have a stocking with his name on it to dig through. There were no lights, no Christmas tree, no ornaments, not even Christmas music. My boys didn't have a home cooked meal and their night didn't end with a bedtime story and a kiss. Instead, the night had fallen into silence. So, I sat in that silence watching my family's as well as my own hopes and dreams fracture further.


	2. So Tender and Mild

**A/n: This chapter takes place Christmas Eve/Day when Sam is 8 and Dean is 12. As seen in season 3 flashbacks.**

 **Thank you to anyone who reads, reviews, follows, and/or favorites. As always thank you miXiZ, LilyBolt, and also jojospn for your recent reviews, support, and friendship.**

 **SPOILER ALERT: season 3 "A Very Supernatural Christmas."**

So Tender and Mild

Christmas' came and went and none them had been even close to how I had hoped my boys would spend it.

My baby is now eight years old and my little boy is almost a teenager. How time flies. I remember being told how children grew up quickly and that I should make the most of their youth because it didn't last long enough. I don't know if John thought about this. Especially since he had helped our little boy grow up way too soon. The worst of it all, now Dean was on his way to becoming a hunter. Already John had taught him the basics of a gun, such as how to hold it, aim, shoot, and reload. The life I never wanted my sons to even know existed, was quickly consuming them. Dean looked up to John, anyone with eyes could see that. He had started off when he was younger wanting a car like his father had, then he wanted to wear the same thing, next he enjoyed listening to the same music, now he wanted to be a hunter just like daddy. John was a good man, he had a good heart, but there were somethings that I hoped Dean would follow his own path and not fall into his father's footsteps. Of course hunting had been my number one concern. It was already not looking good for Dean, but there was a brighter chance for Sammy. He had grown up so fast, but more along the lines of the kind of fast I had hoped for my boys. The older they got, the less John seemed to be around. Once Dean turned eleven, he started leaving them in a motel alone. Occasionally he would leave them with good people and fellow hunters such as Caleb and Bobby.

Dean had taken up the role of mother, father, and big brother for my baby and he kept at it. He knew how to cook fast and easy things such as boxed macaroni and cheese, Spaghetti-Os, cereal, and eggs. Sometimes John would leave him money to pick up something fast at a quick shop kind of place where he would buy more junk, which I would roll my eyes in disgust. My boys needed a proper meal.

They moved from school to school. Dean merely coasted through, but Sammy, even when only attending for a few weeks, always gave it his all. I knew Dean was smarter than he let on, it pained me to see him not care. He claimed it was because he already knew he was going to be a hunter like his dad and college didn't matter for that job. Although it broke my heart to hear him say it, I knew that his heart was in the right place. He didn't just do it because John did, but because he viewed his father as a hero and wanted to be one too. My little boy, who had taken Sammy in his arms during the fire and carried him out to safety, wanted to keep complete strangers safe as he's done for his family. Little Sammy on the other hand, he had no idea of monsters and hunting. To him it was all make believe and movies. That is until Christmas Eve 1991, in Broken Bow Nebraska .

Sammy was always curious. He asked questions about me all the time as well as how the world worked like any young kid would. Dean answered what worldly inquiries he could, but would get silent or angry whenever he would be asked about me. The general rule was one John had placed back when Dean had done the same to him.

"We don't talk about that," he would say sternly and so it was passed on from him to Dean. It angered me, it hurt that I was just swept off to be forgotten. However, I also knew why. It pained John too much to talk about, Dean saw that pain and took it as his own as well. The only one left to talk about me was the only one too young to even remember me or what it was like to have a home or a mother. Sammy had pushed Dean to his limits with asking where their dad was, the new repeated question my eldest had to make up an answer for. Both he and John and had done such a great job at keeping him safe and allowing him to be innocent and naive for years. Maybe both were hoping the same as I had, maybe there was a Winchester yet who could live the life I had always wanted and wanted for them. A normal one. But Sam's curiosity got the better of him and while Dean was out, he scurried over to where he had seen John's journal being stashed away by their father before he left. I wish I could have stopped him. I sat and watched as his eyes danced across the pages which he turned carefully. With each one, they grew wider and wider and his jaw dropped more and more. He slammed it shut and stuffed it back in hiding, then returned to the couch where he had been watching Christmas specials. When Dean returned, Sammy confronted him. What was Dean suppose to do? I knew he hated lying to his little brother, even though he was doing it for his own good and to keep him safe. My eldest caved at the look my youngest was giving him. John had always been able to do the same to me. As I had suspected, my baby had his father's eyes. The truth hurt. Not only had Sam found out the truth that I had died in a fire and that a demon was responsible for it, but now he knew that the world he lived in was much more dangerous and scarier than he had thought. Worse of all, he had been lied to all his life. He was still too young to see that it had been in his best interest, he only saw it as a secret his family had been keeping from him. That night Sammy cried himself to sleep and again I grieved that I couldn't take hold of him in my arms and hug it better. Poor Sammy didn't even remember what it felt like to be held by me. Once he had fallen asleep, my eldest had crept from the room and used some other techniques I disproved of John teaching him to swipe someone else's gifts and finding a tiny pine tree, which came up to about Dean's leg, and brought them back to his brother.

Christmas morning, Sammy is eagerly shook awake by an excited Dean.

"Sam wake up! Dad was here. Look what he brought."

"Dad was here?"

"Yeah. Look at this. We made a killing."

"Why didn't he wake me up?" Sammy yawned.

"He tried to, like, a thousand times," Dean said thinking on his feet.

"He did?" My youngest asked in disbelief.

"Yeah. Did I tell you he would give us Christmas or what?" There was a pause and Sammy just looked at his big brother, as if trying to decipher whether not his brother was telling the truth. No doubt he was unsure after finding out he had been lying to him all these years. Dean jerked his head in the direction of the presents. "Go on. Dive in."

Sam does so, kicking off the covers and rushing to retrieve the two gifts that had been placed under Dean's attempt of a Christmas tree. He opened the first one, raising his eyebrows when the paper was cleared.

"What is it?" Dean asked curiously.

"Sapphire Barbie," Sam answered turning the present so his big brother could see. I noticed the hesitation and the hint of disappointment in his green eyes which he tried to cover by scoffing.

"Maybe Dad thinks you're a girl," he teased.

"Shut up."

"Open that one." Sam did so and revealed a sparkly baton with shimmering long strands at either end. He caught on.

"Dad never showed, did he?" Sam asked throwing Dean a look

"Yeah he did. I swear," his brother responded quickly.

"Dean, where did you get all this stuff?"

Dean sighed. "Nice house up the block. I swear, I didn't know they were chick presents." There was a pause as Sam nodded. "Look, I'm sure Dad would have been here if he could."

"If he's alive." It was clear to both me and his brother that the news of what their father is really out doing only brought even more uncertainty to Sammy as to their father's whereabouts and status.

"Don't say that. Of course he's alive. He's dad." Dean replies matter o' factly. Another nod from Sammy, but this time in agreement. He dug around his jacket which had been tossed over the arm of the couch, pulled out the object he had wrapped yesterday, and handed to Dean.

"Here. Take this."

"No," Dean objected shaking his head. "No that's for Dad."

"Dad lied to me. I want you to have it."

Dean looked at his brother, checking to make sure what he was saying was what he really meant. "Are you sure?"

"I'm sure."

I watched as my oldest son unwrapped the gift given to him by my youngest with a smile on my face. A strange brass horned man amulet with a black wire as a means of displaying it lay in Dean's hand. He ran a thumb over the charm, a smile growing rapidly across his face and I could tell by the way he lit up, that he genuinely loved the strange amulet. "Thank you Sam I-I love it." Dean said, sliding it over his head. He glanced at it with admiration, then turned to his little brother. Sam gave a half hearted smirk and nodded his head. "I'm sorry I wasn't able to get you anything for real," my oldest said disheartened.

"It's ok Dean, you do a lot for me. Besides, you kinda did give me something."

"I swear I didn't know girls lived at that house," Dean reassured him.

"I wasn't talking about that."

"What then?"

"The truth." Dean's face fell and his green eyes quickly moved to look at the lights his brother had placed on the small tree he had acquired to try and lighten up my youngest's mood and keep the spirit of the holiday alive.

"Don't worry, I won't tell Dad. Just-thank you." Dean still refused to meet his brother's eyes. I knew well enough that he was feeling as though he had betrayed his father's trust. Worse, knowing Dean, he probably felt responsible for Sam's innocence of the world being taken away. Along with Santa. I couldn't blame him for that, he had been on a roll of truths when my baby had asked about him and if he was real. I had seen Dean weighing between telling him and letting him continue to believe. At least Sammy had been eight, unlike Dean who had been a whole four years younger. He had a tendency to take anything and everything as his fault and therefore took the weight of it all. I still don't know exactly why he did this, and I wish I knew how to make him stop. One day, this habit of his was going to be too much and I fear he will break. I can't even bare the thought of seeing him like that.

"You wanna watch some Christmas movies? I'm pretty sure they're playing them all day." Sammy had grown very aware of when subjects needed to be changed and stay changed. Between John and Dean, he was stuck in limbo of wanting to continue the conversation they had started and leave them alone. Neither my husband nor my eldest son were interested in sharing their emotions or getting on topics that brought any out. Sammy differed there as well.

"Yeah, sure."

The rest of the day the boys spent watching Rudolph the Red Nose Reindeer, Frosty the Snowman, Santa Clause is Coming to Town, and all the other Christmas cartoons that had been around since I was their age and some that were new to me. They laughed and talked about the shows and even joked about Sam's 'gifts.'

That night after they ate supper and still no John showed up, my youngest approached my eldest while he was brushing his teeth. His cheeks were slightly pink and he stood dressed for bed with his head bowed slightly and his feet moving in and out.

"Uh, Dean."

"Ya?"

"I-I was wondering...will you um...will you read to me? You know, like when I was younger?" Dean stopped brushing his teeth and stared at Sammy. Sam knew how to read of course, in fact, he read way more advanced books than most kids his age. When Dean didn't say anything Sam tried again. "You read with voices and I can't do that, not like you can." At this point, Sammy's cheeks and ears were a bright pink and he had managed to move his hazel eyes up to my oldest boy. "I mean if it's dumb and childish-" his father's words.

"Of course I'll read to you Sammy," he responded having swallowed the toothpaste and smiling.

"You really shouldn't swallow that stuff Dean, it's bad for you," my youngest informed. Dean shrugged.

"Can't be as bad as some of the things you eat," he teased. "Who's bed?"

"Let's go with...yours." Dean started over to get set up while Sammy went to fetch a book. When he returned he glanced at it with a smirk.

"Good one Sammy."

I sat and watched as my Dean read How the Grinch Stole Christmas to my baby, both boys snuggled close as he read with a cranky tone as the Grinch. Just like he had when his little brother had been too young to read. I saw Sammy smile and chuckle quietly as he did so and Dean himself even gave a small grin. My boys may not have Christmas' like I had hoped, but they had each other and for that I was thankful.


	3. Love's Pure Light

**A/n: I'm so sorry that this is getting posted so late today everyone, for some of you I know it's not even Friday. I've had one hell of a day, but I won't bore you with the details. Anyways, here's chapter 3 of From Heaven Above!**

 **This takes place while Sam's away at college (age 21) and Dean is off with their Dad. For anyone who read my short story First Comes Awkward Introductions, I have a surprise guest star for you ;-)**

 **Thank you everyone who has read, reviewed,favorited, and/or followed this story and as well as anyone who does. LilyBolt you are always amazing and I'm always appreciative of your reviews, support, and friendship, same with you miXiZ, and jojospn, you're amazing too!**

Love's Pure Light

This Christmas is the closest thing Sam has ever had to what I had hoped for him 21 years ago. He left the "family business," as my husband calls it, and went to college. Although it hurt to see Dean so upset and John too, I was so proud of my baby! College, finally! Even more impressive, he had received a full ride to go to Stanford in California! A mother couldn't be more proud if she tried. I always knew Sammy was an intelligent boy. He may be stubborn like his father and brother, but like them he was also very dedicated. Sammy knows what he wants, and he goes for it.

Sam wakes up Christmas morning to an on slaughter of kisses all over his face. He's grown to be such a sweet and handsome young man. The older he gets, the more he reminds me of my husband, both in appearance and most definitely in personality. Those lively hazel eyes, that bright smile, things I haven't seen in John for years but still remember so clearly are now shining through our youngest. He's taller than his father and his brother, something no one had expected given he was short for his age when he was a freshman in high school.

I can see Sam's eyes twitch every time lips touch him, and slowly John's smile spreads across his face.

"Jess, what-" the beautiful young blonde who is showering my son in affection, stops only long enough for him to open his eyes. She smiles down as she hovers above him.

"Merry Kissmas Sam!" She continues to bring her lips down on his face enthusiastically.

"What?" He laughs.

"Every Christmas morning when I was little, I would wake up early and run into my parents room and wake them. My father of course didn't like it, so my mom told me one year, to climb up on the bed and kiss Daddy's face until he was up. No one can deny a kiss from their girl." Sam's smile turns into a lustful smirk.

"Is that so?" He asks. She nods, her blonde hair moving up and down as she does. "Well in that case..." Without warning, Sam springs his upper body from the bed and snatches up Jessica, who squeals in surprise. Once in his grasp, he rolls so that she is laying on the bed and he's now hovering over her. He plants a gentle kiss on her lips, then another and another and another until their lips lock for a good few seconds. "Happy Kissmas Jess."

Jessica Moore is a woman any mother would be proud to have in their family. She's beautiful, smart, fierce, loving, caring, genuine, and most importantly, she makes my Sammy happy. Their first date hadn't exactly gone as ideal as most, but I would have to say the bumpy road is behind them now. Besides, my first date with John hadn't gone any better. They went in on a living space together only a couple of months after they started dating, and now the two are inseparable with the exception of work and classes. She drags him to parties, they study together, go to group outings, and of course have date nights. Sam can be a timid shy man, something I'm not sure would have been any different had he not been raised the way he had. Jessica is a strong willed woman who goes for what she wants and is far from a quitter. Nor does she let Sam throw in the towel even when stress gets the better of him. She makes him his favorite foods, takes care of him when he's ill, is there to comfort him and calm his nervous if an exam doesn't go as well as he had hoped, she encourages him to mingle with others when they're out at parties, and she knows when he needs to be put in his place. As I've mentioned it before, Sam is stubborn and he needs a good telling off sometimes when his temper flares. Just another similarity to John. I remember having to put my husband in his place a few times. Maybe the reason Jessica Moore has my seal of approval is because she reminds me a bit of a younger me, more like in my hunting days. But I'm not the only person that comes to mind. She also reassembles Dean in how she cares for him. Of course to be fair, Dean reminds me a great deal of myself too. Before Jessica, Dean was the one who nursed Sam back to health when he was sick, tried to get Sam to loosen up and have some fun, make sure he was fed, be there to wipe his tears and cheer him up, put him in his place, congratulate and encourage him, and of course spend some time with him.

She's perfect for Sammy and since, much to my dismay, he hasn't been keeping in contact with either his brother or his father since he left, my baby needs someone like Jessica who is fun loving but also can be a force to be reckoned with.

"Come on, let's go see what Santa Claus brought," the young blonde says excitedly.

"You mean what Sama Claus bought?" He corrects her.

"And Jessa Claus," she adds. Sam bends down so that his forehead is resting on hers. Their noses touch and he stares in admiration at his girlfriend.

"What would I do without you?" He asks in a voice low enough that had anyone else been around, she would have been the only one to hear it. I don't count. I've heard and seen it all, that included seeing things that would make my boys turn red and attempt to sink into nonexistence of embarrassment if they knew.

"Crash and burn," she replies, but there's no vanity in her tone. Instead the two smile at one another. This back and forth was quickly becoming an ongoing thing between the two of them. They kiss again and then Jessica pushes Sam away so that she can slide out from under him.

"Does this mean I have to get up?" He whines sounding much as he had as a teenager when being woken up by Dean and their father at some ungodly hour to go practice shooting or leave for an actual hunt.

At first I had been devastated when Sammy went on his first hunt. He had been so excited to finally get a chance to prove to his family that he could be just as good a hunter as the rest of them. It had taken John another year after Sam learned the truth of what he did for him to allow our youngest son to join him and Dean. At first he enjoyed it. The thrill of getting to be just like his big brother who had sadly started pushing Sam away and focusing more on becoming a great hunter and impressing his father. But as time went on and the more deaths Sammy had to encounter, the more he feared that one day there would be a hunt that went terribly wrong and took away his father, his brother, or his own life. With every hunt grew the longing for a life full of normalcy. Just as I had and had hoped for them. It may be eerie how much like his father Sam was, but he had streaks of me. I only wished that he and John hadn't but heads and got into so many yelling matches. I knew that it was partially why Sam snuck out instead of saying a proper goodbye, and poor Dean. He was left to referee his pigheaded father and headstrong brother every fight. It wasn't fair. If he sided with Sam, John would usually turn and yell at him too, and if he sided with John, Sammy would get angry and tell him to 'grow some balls' as he would put it. The fights were hard on Dean, torn between wanting to make his father proud, and stand by his brother's side. Although for all the fighting and the struggle it was for him, I knew he would have gladly kept at it if it meant Sammy would stay with him.

"I suppose you could stay in bed for a few more minutes," she sighs nonchalantly. "I however, am hopping in the nice warm soothing shower." She says the last bit in a seductive tone, pulling her night shirt up and over her head and throwing it on the bed as she does so. Sam clears his throat fighting the sheets.

"You know, now that you mention it, a shower sounds a lot better than sleep." She giggles as he wins the battle and tears himself free.

After their time in the shower, both of them throw on some clean clothes and make their way into the kitchen/dinning/living room of their small pad and help themselves to some coffee.

Finally! The Christmas I had always wanted for my boys! There was an actual Christmas tree standing off in the corner by the loveseat they had acquired through a second hand furniture store. The matching couch was set up so that together they formed an L. They didn't have a chimney so the stockings had been laid out on the couple's respected spots on the couch instead. The lights on the tree sprung to life when Sam turned on the switch, making them sparkle and fluctuate between red, green, blue, and yellow. Jessica had surprised Sam when he came home on a particularly rough day at school with the place decorated. She had garland draped across some nails along the door frame to give it a festive look and a small wreath with holly berries intertwined with the pine on the front door. Little metal signs were hanging like pictures on the wall. A red one with a jolly Santa Claus that read 'Joy To The World' another similar but this one was blue with a snowman that read 'Let It Snow' and one green one with a happy looking reindeer that read 'Deck The Halls.' They had decorated the tree that night together with ornaments she had purchased earlier. There hadn't been very many and they were mostly red and gold or silver and blue, but they were still beautiful. She had even surprised him with mistletoe which she hung in the doorway in the hall. Sam had never seen anything like it with the exception of what he saw in movies. The closest he had ever come to it was when Dean would steal Christmas for him. Which included a sad looking pine not quite yet a tree, but still with lights around it, and later on when they were older, a wreath made out of empty beer cans. Also on that short list were someone else's presents, or after the Christmas he had swipped gifts meant for a girl, he instead purloined items from stores.

While Jessica curls up in her spot to the right of the couch, Sam gives her a little surprise of his own when he turns on Christmas music. The young woman smiles as Silver Bells sung by Bing Crosby floats from the stereo. Sammy's first Christmas with Jessica is just as darling and delightful as my first with John had been. Every gift they unwrap always starts with a smile and ends with a thank you and a kiss on the lips. They had both spent a fair amount of money on one another despite not really having a lot of it, like most young adults tend to do when they're in a relationship. Sam gave Jessica a new mixer she had been asking about, promising him some nice baked goods if she got one, a new baby blue quarter sleeve cotton dress, a gift card to get a massage at the local spa, and a beautiful diamond necklace which has left the young woman speechless and teary eyed with a huge toothy smile.

"I know it's not much," Sam says nervously rubbing the back of his neck. Jessica crawls over to the other side of the couch where Sam's sitting and kisses him.

"Shut up, I love my gifts!"

My son laughs. "So I don't need the receipts?"

"Rip them, rip them all! The stores can't have any of it back!" She kisses him again and holds out the necklace he bought her. "Would you care to do the honors?" She asks.

"My pleasure." Sam gently takes the necklace from Jessica and she pulls her hair up and out of the way while he clasps it shut, kissing her neck affectionately as he finishes up. A little noise escapes her lips and a chill runs up her spine. Sam grins and kisses her again getting the same results. I'm almost certain that by next Christmas, she will be receiving a diamond ring from my baby boy, if not already wearing one. I see how they look at each other and it isn't with that dumb ducky love that teenagers and young adults their age usually show, it's genuine. My son doesn't just love Jessica Moore, he's most definitely in love with the girl and she with him. It warms my heart to see my boy so happy. I just wish Dean could have been there to have a true Christmas too.

"I know what you're doing Sam Winchester," she scolds playfully.

"What?" My son shrugs innocently.

"Uh huh. Open your gifts." She hands Sam the few presents she had been able to afford for him. His include a law book, two tickets to a Jayhawks game, a scarf, and a watch.

"I figured they were things you would enjoy. I'm not sure how you're going to get to the game, but you can take whoever you want," she explains.

"You're the best Jess, thank you."

"Well that's not all, you have one more gift from me," Jessica kisses Sam, this time passionately and the two enjoy each other's warmth and company once again.

Later that night, the young woman prepares a small Christmas dinner complete with a nice rosemary chicken, fresh vegetables, and a side of mash potatoes as well as some dinner rolls. They eat and talk about things such as school, work, the future, even their gifts. Shortly after they clean up their meal, they curl up on the couch under a large throw blanket and watch a holiday movie Jessica has found. She falls asleep in Sam's arms not even a quarter of the way into the film, leaving Sam to sit and watch it alone. But I can tell he isn't exactly paying attention anymore. Some thing's troubling him. He kisses the top of his lover's head and shifts her so that he can slide out from underneath. Gingerly and without waking her, he lifts her up from the couch and rests her on their bed. She moans and shifts, but doesn't open her eyes. Sam smiles at Jessica and then sneaks out of the room, closing the door so as not to wake the sleeping woman.

Now alone, he turns off the tv, pulls his phone from his pocket, flips it open, and scrolls down until he finds Dean's name. For a good minute I watch my son stare at the device, biting his lower lip and debating on whether or not he should call. To my joy, he presses down on the number and activates it. The phone doesn't even ring once before Sam quickly hangs up and cusses under his breath. Sighing in defeat, I watch as my youngest boy takes one last look out the window before closing the curtains, turning off the lights on the tree, and retiring to his bed and girlfriend. Little does he know that his brother is standing outside his front door.

XXXX

While Sammy has finally had a real Christmas, Dean's only seem to deteriorate. He's gone from Christmas to no Christmas to bringing my baby Christmas right back to no Christmas again. I'm not even sure if he knows what day it is.

I watch as he wipes his right cheek with the sleeve of his jacket, still breathing hard as he stares down at the ghoul who's head he's just turned into jelly. His clothing have splouches of blood on it and even though he wipes his face, he still has some up by his hairline. John comes over to our son and gives him a congratulatory pat on the shoulder as he passes by. Dean looks up at his father with his green eyes sparkling in pride. The gesture may not be much, but any kind of appraisal from John is like winning the Nobel peace prize for Dean.

My husband returns to my son's side with kerosene and salt, handing the latter to my eldest. They both get to work dousing the body with both before John pulls out a match and lights it on fire. They both stand staring into the flames, neither of them saying anything to the other. Once the creature is charred beyond recognition, John snuffs out the fire and heads to the Impala, Dean not far behind. As he climbs into the passenger side and buckles up, he notices his father still hasn't started up the car. Usually he has it revved and ready to go the moment he was inside. My eldest turns to look at his father with my green eyes. I can see faint lines appear on his forehead and a small frown on his lips.

"Dad?" He asks in a small voice, reminding me of when he was just a little boy. "You ok?" John doesn't say anything for awhile, he just stares out the front window of the Impala as if suddenly lost in thought. Dean doesn't push, he knows better than to do that with John. I sigh as I watch my husband. He's subconsciously turning his wedding ban around his ring finger, a gesture that almost brings me to tears. I may not know if my son knew what day it was, but my husband certainly did. He bows his head to look at the ring and grins slightly as I see his eyes mist. If Dean notices, he doesn't say anything.

"Yeah son," he answers finally, the breaking of the silence startling Dean a little. "I'm ok." John's hazel eyes meets Dean's green. He nods still uncertain. My husband sighs and clears his throat, a habit Sammy picked up when he was readying himself to address something he was nervous about or when he wanted to change the subject. "You ready to hit the road?"

"Yes sir."

The car ride is silent, Dean's looking out of the passenger side window much like Sammy use to when he sat in the backseat. John's attention is focused on the road before him, the only noise is coming from the car as she rumbles along with the occasional squeaks that have become white noise to my boys.

John confuses both Dean and even me when he pulls up to a curb a few hours after the hunt, instead of a motel. Curiosity is shining in Dean's eyes, but he doesn't dare question his father as to what they're doing. My guess is that he assumes they're onto another case. Finally, when my eldest still can't come up with an answer of his own, he turns to John with the same look.

What are we hunting Dad?" Dean asks. John scoffs softly causing the lines in Dean's forehead to deepen.

"Nothing Dean." It takes him a few seconds more to say anything else. He points to the buildings across the way. "In that building there, not the one to the right but behind it and a little to the left the last door on the third floor-" Dean follows where his father is pointing with his full attention. "Your brother's in there." My son's head snaps to his father so fast, I fear he would broke it.

"Sammy?" He asks in a voice only a little above a whisper. John nods. "So what are we doing here Dad?" There's a hopeful gleam in his eyes.

"Whatever you want son. You wanna go see Sam?" I'm almost certain Dean's eyes were going to bug right out of his skull and roll away. He isn't the only one in shock. If I had been drawing breath, it would have ceased. Was my husband really doing this? The very man who only a few years ago had told my baby that if he left to not bother coming back? The very man who hadn't talked to Sam since he left? Of course it was! Dean may not have known until now, but I had seen John swing by Sam's dorm whenever he was in the area. Our boys may not think it, especially Sammy, but I know they mean the world to him. He may get into fights with Sam, but that doesn't mean he doesn't care. He may be a stubborn jackass at times, but he knows how much Sammy means to his older brother.

"Does he know?"

John shakes his head. Dean looks back towards the building with a small grin on his face. I can imagine just the thought of seeing his little brother, the boy Dean was so fond of, the one he would move mountains for, was ready to bring tears to his eyes. He swallows and pushes them back, he never lets John see him cry.

"I would like to, yeah."

"Alright, I'll be back to pick you up in about an hour," John responds.

"Wait what? Aren't you comin' Dad?" My son asks, his demeanor slipping into what I can tell is shock and maybe even a hint of disappointment. John shakes his head sadly and bites his lip, another gesture my youngest has picked up from him.

"No, I have something I gotta do."

"Something that's more important than Sammy?" Now the unmistakable sound of disbelief. "Is this about you still being pissed at him?"

"No. Now go on. I'll pick you up right here when I'm done." I can see Dean fighting back the urge to comment on his father's decision to not go with him, but as he always does with John, he simply nods. Dean never questions his father or his reasoning. In his eyes, John's the Shepard and he's the ever loyal and faithful sheep.

"Yes sir."

With that Dean climbs out of the vehicle and makes his way across the street towards Sammy's place. The low rumble of the Impala fades as his father takes off down the street. As Dean draws closer and closer to the dorm, his heartbeat can be heard rapidly thumping against his chest. His hurried strides are now reduced to almost a crawl and he keeps swallowing at a lump that's formed in his throat that doesn't seem to want to go away. By the time he reaches the front door, he's breathing heavy and his body is shaking slightly. I watch as he stands there frozen. He must have a million things running through his mind and I wish I knew what they were, although I have my suspicions. I watch as he shuts his eyes and tries to steady his breathing, taking a deep breath in and than out a few times. He raises his right hand to knock on the door, but stops. His eyes open and he lowers his arm. He stands there for a few more seconds before sighing and turning to walk back the way he came. At the same time, Sam pockets his phone and draws the curtains.

It's worse than those stupid romance movies I would watch. My boys were so unbearably close to reuniting, to seeing one another for the first time in years, and they both let their nerves and what ifs get the better of them. Being dead didn't make me a mind reader, but after all these years of watching over my children, I can read them like a book.

No doubt Dean had started off excited to see his little brother again and with every step, more than likely, came a new fear or doubt. The dreaded what ifs. What if Sam didn't want to see him? What if Sam was angry with him the same as he was their father? What if he had felt like Dean didn't care? To name a few. Meanwhile, little did Dean know, that Sammy stood in the room only feet away from him staring at his name on the phone the same as his brother had the front door with his own what ifs. What if Dean didn't want to hear from him? What if everything was better without him and the call only resurfaced any negative or hurt feelings? What if he didn't answer? That one would spawn a whole new branch of what ifs, of that I'm certain. Unable to knock some sense into either of my boys and tell them to get over themselves and their stupid fears and just knock on the door or just call the number, I sit and witness both of my boys end their night with yearnings just to hear one another's voice and the heartbreaking decision to push that aside, thinking that in doing so the other would be happier.


	4. With the Dawn of Redeeming Grace

**A/n: Alright everyone, here's the finale chapter! I hope you all enjoyed my Christmas story for 2015.**

 **Thank to everyone who reads, reviews, and/or favorites this. A big thank you to LilyBolt, miXiZ, jojospn, and guest.**

 **SPOILER ALERT: season 3 "A Very SupernaturalChristmas"**

With the Dawn of Redeeming Grace

It's another three years before my boys celebrate anything again. Since then Sammy has lost his beautiful beloved Jessica in the same manner John had lost me, John himself is gone, and my little boy just squeaked by twice now. The first time was thanks to his brother and the second was after my husband made a deal with the very creature who claimed my life, Jessica Moore, my parents, as well as so many others, in order to save our Dean. News about this destroyed my eldest, but when his father told him that he may have to kill the very brother he would give his life for, he was completely shattered. As fate would have it, my baby was killed seven months ago resulting in leaving Dean all alone. Of course he didn't stand for it and like so many times before, he followed in John's footsteps. Well I guess that's a little unfair of me. I did the same for John years ago myself. I'm the one who started the Winchester sacrifice merry-go-round to begin with. Anyways, he made a deal to bring back our Sammy in exchange for his soul which would be collected in a year. Now my husband is dead, my baby is alive, and my little boy's life is on the line. Sam was pushed back into the life he had never wanted by Jessica's death, which like John, drove him to seek revenge. He of course had Dean to help him through that loss, and then they had each other for John's, but who would he have after his brother was gone? I understand why there isn't much that Sammy sees worth celebrating. He knows that this time next year, he will be left the last Winchester standing. He can't bring himself to be in the right mood to celebrate when he knew that next year all his family, would be dead and gone. Of course Dean, ever the one to try and keep things light for Sammy's sake, has been pushing for it. One last Christmas with his little brother was all he really wanted.

Their Christmas Eve had landed both of them tied to a chair in the home of Pagan Gods who were on their way to sacrificing my sons. I may not agree with how my boys were raised, but John didn't bring up fools.

Sam and Dean got out of that mess and managed to kill the Gods in the process. At that point, Dean had accepted that his brother wasn't going to humor him with one last Christmas.

It's Christmas day and my boys still look slightly beat up from their fight with "Mr. and Mrs. God" as Sammy put it, but they seem to be in high spirits. Their day goes on the same as it normally does, neither of them have even mentioned the word Christmas. It's not until after the boys have eaten dinner, more fast food which Sam offered to pick up, that something shifts. Dean is clearly too busy with his own thoughts to notice that Sammy's wheels are turning. But I notice it. I see his eyes shift over to look at his older brother as he bites his lower lip like he wants to say something but decides against it. While out to grab their dinner earlier, Sammy had made a detour to the gas mart to pick up a few things. Once back, he managed to sneak in the quick stop bag along with their dinner.

Dean wolfed down his bacon cheese burger with extra onions, while Sam worked away at his salad. My youngest finishes up the bite he had taken and turns to his brother clearing his throat.

"Hey, so, we're out of beer," he announces drawing the attention of my eldest. "Wanna make a run?"

"Sure." Dean shoves the rest of his burger into his mouth, gets up, grabs the keys, and is off. Inside the motel room, Sammy sits listening to the Impala until it's rumbling has completely ceased. Once he knows his brother's gone, he jumps up from the table and makes himself busy working swiftly, no doubt having already calculated how much time he has before Dean's return.

When Dean enters the motel room again, he's holding a case of beer with a brown paper bag tucked under his arm. Immediately upon entering, his expression morphs from exhausted to pleasantly surprised and in awe. Sammy, who had been sitting submerged in his thoughts, immediately pops up to greet his brother. For the slightest second, I see my youngest's eyes snap to the peculiar amulet that hasn't left Dean's neck since the Christmas back in 1991.

"Hey," he calls out pulling Dean's eyes from his surroundings to him "you get the beer?" He spreads his arms in a welcoming manner with a large smile on his face. I know my boys, I knew that part of that smile was of course real, but most of what he's displaying is a mask, purely for Dean's sake. I had seen it so many times and for so many years, but normally it was the other way around were my eldest was the one wearing it.

"What's all this?" Dean takes the time to take it all in. It's not much, yet, he has never been as lucky as Sam to have an actual Christmas, so for him it was par if not beyond. Sam had acquired a little pine tree which sat in a white bucket. It's slightly more tree like than Dean had managed years back in Nebraska, but still something others may find laughable. It's decorated with car air fresheners in the shape of trees, as well as a thing of lights wrapped around it. A little paper banner that reads MERRY CHRISTMAS in red and green is hanging on the wall over a picture above the small tube tv that the motel supplies them with.

"What do you think it is? It's-It's Christmas."

"What made you change your mind?"

Sam keeps up the smile, but he doesn't answer, I don't think he's capable of responding without his emotions betraying him.

"Here. Um, try the eggnog" he quickly picks up a full clear plastic cup and hands it to his brother to divert the poor subject with something he knew would keep his brother from remembering that it hadn't been answered. "Let me know if it needs some more kick." As his hand empties from the plastic cup, it's replenished with a bottle of rum which he aims towards my eldest. Dean's eyes grow wide and at first I fear he's either going to choke or spit it out. Clearly this isn't a concern Sam shares, being that it pulls a mischievous smile from his lips.

"No we're good," he chokes out.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," now they both are grinning.

"Good. Well have a seat, let's do Christmas stuff or whatever." Dean's smile never waivers as he sits down in a chair as Sam takes a seat on the couch across from him. It's obvious that it no longer matters to him why his little brother has decided to celebrate, the only thing that does is that he has.

"Alright, first things first," he sets down the large paper bag and and from it he pulls out two more paper bags and hands them to Sammy. "Merry Christmas Sam." At first Sam hesitates, glancing from the bags to his brother.

Where'd you get these?" He asks finally taking them. "Some place special," Dean shrugs off his jacket with a playful grin. I can see a hint of concern in Sam's eyes and can only guess why that is. My best guess is that he feared his brother had spent a lot of money on them. "The gas mart down the street." The worry is gone from his gaze and is replaced with a smile. Sam laughs, and its music to my ears. A real laugh! I haven't heard him laugh for so long it actually shocks me. Dean simply smiles upon hearing it, but I can see his face light up. His gusto for the festivities may have started off forced, but our little Sammy was quickly becoming more and more relaxed and actually enjoying himself which I knew meant more to Dean than any gift would. "Open them up."

"Well, great minds think a like Dean."My youngest reaches under the couch and pulls out two items wrapped in the funnies from a newspaper, the same as he had years back, and hands them to his big brother. For a moment, Dean's smile vanishes and he's frozen. Something about the way he gazes at them is poignant. Almost as though he's surprised that he would be receiving something himself, like he couldn't believe what he was seeing. But that may be because he hadn't been fully aware of how planned out this surprise Christmas was, until his brother was handing him presents.

"Really?" He asks, making a move to collect the gifts "come on."

"Yeahhh!" Sam's exclamation catches Dean and myself off guard and pulls his attention to him as my baby pulls out two magazines that only his brother would get him. "Skin mags and..." He digs around the second bag and whips out a small spray can. "Shaving cream," he says enthusiastically.

"You like?" I can hear the slight eagerness in his tone, as if these gifts were his redemption for Christmases in the past and worth his while presently.

Sam eyes the can, unable to meet Dean's hopeful gaze. "Yeah, yeah."

Content with his brother's response and the obvious truthful look on his face, Dean begins to tear into his own, laughing as they're revealed.

"Haha look at this, fuel for me and fuel for my Baby," he raises a candy bar in his left hand and then the plastic container of motor oil in his right, Sammy nods."These are awesome, thanks."

"Good," he doesn't say it loud, but I know his brother hears him. There's a bit of sadness in his tone, which makes my heart ache. With their gifts exchanged and opened, Dean picks up his spiked eggnog and extends his arm holding it out to toast Sam, something I've seen him do countless times when celebrating another victorious hunt with his baby brother.

"Merry Christmas bro."

"Yeah. yeah," Sammy quickly picks up his own full plastic cup "Merry Christmas." They clink cups and take a sip. It's silent again and Dean is back to staring at the paper and string MERRY CHRISTMAS sign beaming, while Sam's own expression has fallen grim. I could practically see his thoughts changing from happy to be celebrating a holiday with his brother like normal people and for the first time since he had left for college, into remembering why he had put all of this together in the first place. "Hey Dean, y-" His hazel eyes catch his brother's green and I can see him wrestling in his mind on what to say. I can tell by how they shine that he wants to say something sentimental, but not wanting to put Dean in what could possibly be an upsetting situation, he pushes it aside and continues on the way he knows his big brother would rather he did. He sighs as he abandons the thoughts, at least for the time being, and tries to cover them with a cheery subject. "You feel like watching the game?"

Instantly Dean's face lights up the way it use to when he was just a boy and it's Christmas morning again, back when Santa was real and everything was as it should be.

"Absolutely."

Sam nods his head and switches on the football game. Nervously shifting and sipping at his drink, my baby sneaks a peek at his brother. No doubt he was checking to see if the Christmas he had insisted on not having, had accomplished what he had hoped it would. Settled in the chair, Dean's eyes are plastered to the tube, but he gives a nod and his smile grows before he takes another sip from the clear plastic cup, as though he could sense his little brother's uneasiness and was silently reassuring him he was extremely content. The gesture seems to have eased any worries Sammy may have had, and he makes himself comfortable, turning his attention back to the game.

Maybe my boys would never be able to share my ideal traditional Christmas with each other. Maybe there will never be a grandiose tree for them to decorate, or stockings for them to stuff. Maybe presents will never be presented with bows and ribbons wrapped in colorful wrapping paper, but instead would come in brown paper bags or wrapped neatly in newspaper. Dinner may always be a fast food run that consists of a greasy burger for Dean and a salad for Sammy, and never an actual home cooked meal. And as much as I would love for them to be able to do these things and despite me wishing I could make it so, I can't find myself to be sad. They may have never been able to celebrate like everyone else, but they have tried their hardest to bring the spirit of Christmas to one another throughout the years. And everyone knows when it all comes down to it, it's the thought that counts. And even though their holiday is minimal, my boys celebrate for the same reason they do everything else, for family.

 **A/n: Thank you so much for reading everyone! I hope you all have a Merry Christmas!**


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